


Of my body and soul...

by millygal



Series: Soul train [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, Impala Sex, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's soul is still caged, Dean can't leave him there, not <i>now</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of my body and soul...

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon fading into AU. Season 6. Dean still deals with Death, the result is very different though. Huge fat cookies of thanks go out to wings128 :) as always.

As morphine crystallises in his veins, as Dean's heart finally stutters and stops, he thinks perhaps he may be in over his head this time. 

He's been thinking about this for weeks, trying to dig up clues on how to get Sammy's soul back from the pit and the only way he could see to jailbreak his brother's essence was to send in an expert. 

Death.

As outside contractors go Death's pretty up there. There's nothing like bringing a gun to a knife fight.

Dean reckons Death and God are the only two players left on the board and Dean will not go begging for scraps off God's table. He appears to be the douchiest of dead-beat Dads Dean's ever come across and he's seen a few, been a son to one. As far as he's concerned, he'll bend over and God can pucker up.

So, Death.

To meet Death you've gotta be dead. It's not like he could've hung around every pizzeria in the continental US in the hopes that he'd just run into the dude.

Bobby's already made it perfectly clear that he thinks Dean's an idjit of epic proportions, that choosing to die to try and save Sam's soul is a real dumb-fuck idea. 

_"If something goes wrong what am I supposed to do, huh Dean? Be stuck here with soulless as my wingman and hope he doesn't decide I'm a liability! Son, I love Sam, you know I do, but this is frigging madness. What happens if you stay dead?"_

But what other choice did he have?

He couldn't watch that robot walk around in his brother's skin any more. Especially seen as that means Sammy, the real Sammy, is stuck downstairs fiddling for his supper with two arch angels with a hate on for the Winchesters. No. Dean couldn't just _leave_ him there, alone and afraid and probably torn to shreds.

Once Dean knew that Sam's soul wasn't riding shotgun he couldn't get the image of his baby brother being ripped and beaten and taken apart piece by piece out of his head. If the body could make it topside, the soul can too.

So here he stands looking down at himself on Doctor Robert's table, doing a fine impression of a doornail.

Leaning closer, fighting the urge to jab his body in the ribs to see if it twitches, Dean wonders if he always looks that goofy when he's out cold, "Good times."

He recites the chant to get Death's attention and comes face to face with an old friend. 

At what point did reapers become old friends? How many fucked up monsters have he and Sammy encountered that Death's card sharks are now considered friendly?

"Dean, what the hell?!?"

Dean gives himself a mental pat on the back and offers up a slightly smug smile, "What do you know, it worked."

Tessa looks exactly as Dean remembers, nice ass and indignant look on her face. Great, so now he's got to 'beg an audience'. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death watches Dean try and take on board what it's going to cost to rescue Sam's soul from Hell and feels a small amount of sorrow for the presumptuous man standing before him.

Death doesn't really care either way if Sam's soul stays under lock and key but the Winchester brothers have on occasion been helpful and right now they're digging into something he wants solved. 

What he wasn't prepared for was this sense of loss at the look on Dean's face. As a general rule Death doesn't _feel_ anything, unless he's surrounded by junk food and a decent draft beer, "Dean, do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Dean shakes his head and tries to focus on Death's face. He can see Tessa in the corner giving him a sad smile and thinks that if a reaper is feeling sorry for him then this must be some kind of fucked up he's stepping into, "Yeah...yes. So I wear the ring and what....you go break Sam out the pit, but what do you mean I have to..."

Death sighs and smoothes a finger over the head of his silver topped cane, "It's quite simple Dean. If I manage to retrieve Sam's soul and if it isn't completely flayed, I will have to put up a wall, and you will have to anchor that wall."

Dean tries really hard not to let his voice betray the uninhibited fear now filling his chest cavity, "How?"

Death stands, walks closer and lays a hand on Dean's shoulder, "You'll have to give of yourself. Sam's soul isn't going to be in one piece Dean. He's spent the last year and a half as Lucifer and Michael's personal punching bag. At best it will be bruised and tattered, at worst it will be one raw shattered nerve. I can't put _that_ back inside Sam's body without making sure it's stable."

Dean winces at the idea of Sam's soul being in that much pain and gnaws on the inside of his cheek to keep the tears he can feel threatening at bay, "Of myself? My soul you mean?"

Death nods and pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, "This is a spell to bind your soul to his. It will act as a buffer against the wall and it will ensure Sam's soul doesn't simply disintegrate after re-entry."

Dean martial's himself, forces his eyes to focus on the waxy paper in his hand, "Will there be side affects?"

Death smirks at Dean and clicks his fingers. 

As Dean comes too with doc Robert staring down at him, he hears Death's voice, filled with what he thinks is laughter, _"Nothing you boys can't handle."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You what!"

Dean backs away from Bobby, hands raised in placation, "Come on man, what else was I supposed to do? He said he could get him out and he said he could make sure Sammy doesn't end up a drooling mess."

Bobby sighs and throws his hands up in exasperation, "But Dean, your soul....You have any idea how dangerous that is boy! What happens if he ends up a dribbling moron and you have to spend the rest of your life tethered to his psychotic ass!"

Dean lets the hurt, pain and loss shine through his eyes and hangs his head, "Then I'll deal. We'll deal. It's Sam, Bobby. I can't...I can't..."

Bobby steps up next to Dean and wraps an arm round his shoulders, "Alright son, okay. I get it. But this is gonna bite you in the ass and we both know it. Hope you're ready for how pissed he's gonna be at you."

Dean's head shoots up and he gives Bobby his best impression of a confused three year old, "Wha...pissed at me?"

"What did he say to you when he found out you sold yourself down the river to save him..." Bobby sees when Dean's brain catches up and squeezes his shoulder, "All I'm saying is don't expect him not to be royally ticked at you. Can't say I'd blame him either. You two idiots just keep on throwing it away for each other."

Dean allows Bobby to guide him to the couch and gratefully takes the whiskey that appears in front of him, "What was I supposed to do...."

Bobby watches Dean cradle the glass of whiskey like a life line and hopes he hasn't signed on for something that'll destroy both his boys. He knows how they feel about each other. He knows to anyone else their relationship is fucked up on levels most psychiatrists would have a field day with, but he's never been one to point the finger, not at them anyway.

They have so little, it was kind of inevitable they take solace in each other.

Bobby just prays they can handle what Dean's signed up for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean's stood over Sam's prone and lifeless form, waving handfuls of burning herbs and chanting Latin in a stilted voice, praying that he doesn't look as idiotic as he feels, "Pari passu, haec pacta sunt servanda per pax et lux. Tui anima volo vinculum ut mea anima per pax et lux. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, infragilis per amor fiducia."

It's not the first time he's made an ass of himself to save his younger brother, probably won't be the last either, "Pari passu, haec pacta sunt servanda per pax et lux. Tui anima volo vinculum ut mea anima per pax et lux. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, infragilis per amor fiducia."

He'd failed. He'd worn Death's ring and he'd seen what it's like to have to keep the natural order running to schedule and he couldn't take it. He'd tanked the most important job he's ever been given and he'd assumed Death would tell him to go jump, but it appears Death has a soft spot for morons because he'd simply told him he was an affront to the natural order and gone fishing for Sam's soul.

When Death had crammed Sam's soul back Dean had wanted to put his fingers in his ears and shout 'lalalala' like a child. The agony in his brother's voice, the all out terror in his eyes before he fell unconscious had almost been enough to make Dean call a stop to it, to all of it.

But Dean physically can't carry on without Sam, not when there's the remotest hope of getting him back whole. He knows how selfish that really is but he can't bring himself to care, isn't even the tiniest bit ashamed by it. Dean is a fundamentally selfish human being, always has been. He'd pick saving Sam over saving the universe every time and he isn't going to apologise for it. He's already allowed Sam to make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good and look where that got them!

Every human being needs that someone who means more to them than any other, even more than themselves, and Sam's it for Dean. Sam keeps Dean human, keeps him whole and he isn't willing to let his soul rot in Hell for all eternity, even if that means he has to 'give of himself'.

Dean continues to recite the spell as his brain replaces the Latin with Bobby's translation, ' _Moving together this agreement must be kept with peace and light. Your soul will bond to my soul with peace and light. After this, unbreakable in it's love and trust._.'

Dean reckons Death's got a pretty good idea about the less than platonic relationship between him and Sam. After all, Death is all seeing, can be in a million different places at once. Dean would be a fool not to think he and Sam have been _seen_ in their most private moments.

Judging by the translation Bobby'd scared up Dean thinks Death's got a hell of a sense of humour too. Even Bobby had quirked a brow at Dean when he'd finished replacing the Latin with English.

_"Moving together this agreement must be kept with peace and light. Your soul will bond to my soul with peace and light. After this, unbreakable in it's love and trust."_

_"Sorry what?"_

_Bobby looks up at Dean from the mountains of books piled on his desk and downs the last dregs of his whiskey, "You heard me boy. Think Death knows something he ain't letting on?"_

_Dean's face flames and he shuffles his feet, avoiding eye contact with the older man, "No idea what you..."_

_"Oh horse shit! Come on Dean, we've been at this long enough now. You should know I don't give a crap about what you two do on your down time. Long as I don't have to douse you both in ice water mid-way through a hunt, your choices ain't nothing to do with a crotchety old drunk like me."_

As Dean continues to chant he thinks neither he or Sam give Bobby enough credit for picking up their Dad's slack, "Pari passu, haec pacta sunt servanda per pax et lux. Tui anima volo vinculum ut mea anima per pax et lux. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, infragilis per amor fiducia. Come on Sammy, up and at 'em."

Dean's arms are killing him and his voice is hoarse but he won't give up, won't stop chanting until he sees the light in his baby brother's eyes.

He's half way through the next round of Latin when he's picked up and thrown through the air, no warning just his feet lifting off and his back being slammed into the wall of the panic room, "Fucking hell!"

Gritting his teeth, Dean forces himself to finish the last little bit of the chant before letting the agony racking his body take over. There's an invisible immovable force pushing him into the iron wall surrounding Bobby's basement and he can't drag down a full breath without convulsing in pain, "Jesus fucking Christ, Bobby, _Bobby_!"

As he hears Bobby's feet taking the basement stairs two at a time something slams the door shut, leaving him alone with whatever is making soup out of his insides.

"Hold on Dean, I'll get something to jimmy it open."

Dean's not listening, he's watching in horror as a light so bright, so painful to look at that he thinks it might just burn his retinas out, surrounds Sam's body. Tendrils of shimmering light curl themselves around Sam's sleeping form and as the first one touches him, he arches up off the bed, spine curved into a grotesque unnatural shape, "Sammy!"

Sam is writhing on the bed, arms and legs stiff and jerking, face screwed up in a pain Dean doesn't want to think about. As Sam begins to shake hard enough to rattle the bed frame, Dean sees a single swirl of incandescence shoot away from Sam and across the room, "Wha...no, wait I..."

The line of light pierces Dean's chest and Dean's whole body goes rigor rigid then starts to convulse in time with Sam. Dean's flesh is on fire, he's burning so hot he thinks his skin might peel from his bones but all the while his body is shaking and twitching, he's keeping his eyes open, open and pinned to Sam, "Sam! Please..."

As quickly as it started it stops. The light simply ceases to be and Dean finds himself in a sweating heaving heap on the floor. Taking his first real lung full of air since being pinioned to the wall, Dean drags himself across the room and grabs at Sam's hand hanging limply over the edge of the bunk.

Using Sam's weight, Dean pulls himself up onto the bed and curls himself round his brother, "Come on Sam, don't tell me I just got given a soul-ectomy and you're still snoring."

"De...Dean?"

The sound of innate worry in Sam's voice brings tears to Dean's eyes. He'd know that soul-having whine anywhere and his heart expands until he thinks it might literally punch a hole in his chest, "Thank God."

He does it without thinking, he does it because his body is crying out for some reassurance that the man awake in his arms is _his_. Dean lunges for Sam's lips, clamps down so hard their teeth knock and Dean manages to take a chunk out of the inside of his cheek.

Sam struggles for a moment, not sure how he's gone from facing an eternity in Hell to being mauled by the man he threw himself in the pit to save, but the heat of Dean, the scent of him invading Sam's senses is enough to calm his frayed nerves. He kisses back with everything he has and allows Dean's tongue free roaming rights around his mouth.

Dean drinks his fill of Sam's taste on his tongue but far too quickly has to pull back when breathing becomes a real issue. As he opens his eyes he sees a faint glow surrounding the bed and has to shake his head to check that he isn't hallucinating due to lack of oxygen.

When Sam's eyes open and he too starts at the sight of light emanating from the pair of them, Dean knows he isn't seeing things, "Huh. Who knew?"

The look Sam gives him is both cute and frustrating. Dean can see Sam's over active brain is working double time trying to figure shit out and Dean thinks he may need a whole bottle of whiskey to get through the explanation he's going to have to give of the last eighteen months.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You did _what!_ "

Bobby is watching Dean watch Sam pace and thanking his lucky stars he isn't the one getting railed on, "Told you he'd be pissed."

Dean spins on the spot, snarls and wags a finger in Bobby's face, "One indignant douche at a time, thanks!"

Bobby throws his hands up in surrender and stalks off towards the kitchen, sighing and mumbling about damn fool Winchesters.

Once the sliding doors between the kitchen and dining room are closed, Sam lunges at Dean, gripping his shirt in his fists, "What the fuck were you _thinking_? Going off and getting yourself bonded to me, **me** of all people. What if you hadn't come back from being dead huh, what then! You could have ended up..."

Sam stops mid sentence and stumbles away from Dean, grabbing at his head and moaning. Sam's knees hit the floor and he's forced to hold onto the carpet in the hopes it'll stop him spinning off the edge of the planet.

Dean drops in front of Sam, running his hands all over his brother, "What! What is it, are you...."

Sam groans and shakes his head. 

He can hear...no that can't be possible, can it? He can _hear_ Dean. Inside. Dean's voice loud and clear talking over Dean's actual voice in his ears, ' _Sammy no, please I'm sorry, god what have I done... Maybe he came back wrong, maybe it didn't work...what have I..._ ' Sam forces his eyes open and onto Dean's face just to check his lips aren't forming the words he can hear ringing in his mind, "Dean, shut up. Shut up a minute!"

Dean's about to tell him to go fuck himself but the look in Sam's eyes brings him up short. Watching Sammy try and form words is almost funny, would be hilarious if Dean didn't think he'd screwed up the spell and maybe he's stuck with a, all be souled, half Sam.

"You didn't screw the spell up Dean."

Dean does a double take and sits back on his ass on the carpet, "Wha...I didn't...did I say that out loud?"

Sam curls himself into a sitting position and faces his brother, eyebrows knitted in concentration, "No. Look, just think something..."

Dean closes his eyes and hopes Sam hasn't gone totally guano.

"I'm not crazy Dean."

"Stop that! I didn't say that..."

Sam leans forward, nose to nose with Dean and pinches his brother's lips between thumb and forefinger, "....out loud? I know."

Sam's still trying to work up the nerve to ask Dean if he even bothered asking about side effects to his little jaunt into Warlock territory when Dean's eyes widen and he pulls away from Sam's touch.

"I _did_ ask. Death wasn't exactly forthcoming about any..."

Sam's chest feels tight and his vision is blurring, "Dean, I didn't even open my mouth, I just thought....Oh crap!"

Dean and Sam both look like they've been hit by a bus. They turn as one towards the shut sliding doors, "BOBBY!"

Bobby shunts a door half way open and pokes his head inside, "What, where's the fire!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean's got his head in his hands, two fingers jammed in his ears and is sat on the couch shaking, "Sammy please, stop, you gotta stop or my head's gonna explode."

Sam's laid out on the floor, one pillow under his head the other over his face, nails digging holes in Bobby's already threadbare carpet, "I can't help it, I'm not doing it on purpose I just...."

Bobby slams the book he's been pawing over for the last two hours down on the desk, "Will you two silly bastards shut the hell up!"

The boys both shut their mouth's, allowing the silence to sooth their inner ears, despite the fact they can hear _everything_ the other is thinking. 

It's a strange sensation. The words don't vibrate across air, they just 'appear' in their head's. One minute Dean will be happily thinking about pie and cool whip and the next Sam will be holding his belly and grimacing, "Do you have to think about your stomach constantly, how can you be hungry at a time like this?"

What Dean says is, "Seriously Sammy, that's just creepy. No one should know everything their partner's thinking." What pops into Sam's consciousness is an image of Dean eating pie off of Sam's naked thighs.

"And I'm creepy! There's no way you're eating that from there. End of."

Despite the fucked up situation, Dean smirks and looks at his brother's body laid out on the floor and thinks perhaps this shared consciousness thing isn't so bad, as long as they can shut it off occasionally.

"Here here."

"Will you two idjits zip it, just for a minute. I think I've found something."

The brother's turn towards Bobby, matching hopeful puppy-dog looks etched across their faces.

Bobby shakes his head and flips a page, "It says here, if my translation of ancient Sumerian isn't all to cock, that shared souls are souls halved. The one doesn't function without the other. Huh, got you two idiots pegged haven't they?"

"Hey"

"No need for that Bobby."

Ignoring the indignant stares, Bobby forges on, "Apparently once you've bonded a pair of souls the collective, I'm assuming they mean the two combined, will work as one. In other words you pair of pillock's are stuck in each other's heads. Nice job Dean, couldn't have fucked it up more if you tried could you?"

Sam 'hears' Dean's response before his big brother opens his mouth and decides to cut him off before Bobby leaves them to sort this mess out alone, "Is there any way to 'turn it off'? You know, lock it down when you could really do with some peace and quiet..."

An image of soulless Sam comes floating across Dean's memory before he can shove it back down and watches as Sam winces, "I'm not sorry."

Sam looks at Dean, smiles wryly and reaches out to grip his knee, ' _I know. I'm not complaining it's just..._ '

Dean's not sure whether he should reply out loud or in his head until he looks up to find Bobby, nose buried back in yet another dusty tomb, and decides peace and quiet might be the way to go, ' _I couldn't do it Sammy. Couldn't watch him wear you like a clown costume and not try and get you back. You **are** your soul._ '

Sam feels Dean's tears as if they were his own and has to breath through his nose to stop from welling up himself, ' _Maybe we could find a way...Do you have to stay bonded to me?_ '

Dean shakes his head, closes his eyes against the waves of sadness coming from Sam, ' _I'm not sorry! And yes, we have to stay bonded. The wall in your head, it's fragile. It could collapse and you could end up more of a drooling wreck than you already are...._ '

Sam smirks at the inferred insult and laces his fingers with Dean's.

' _...I'm not risking you losing your shit over the stuff that soulless douche-wad did, just so I can get a bit of quiet time. Least of our worries Sammy. I wanted you back, I got you. End of discussion. We ain't picking this one apart, okay?_ '

Sam scoots across the floor far enough to lean his head against Dean's knee, never letting go of his hand, and allows the heat of Dean's other fingers carding through his hair to sooth his much abused psyche, ' _Okay, but we have to find a way to shut it down occasionally. Last thing I want is to hear you thinking that the mounted policemen in Topanger bay are hot. I may have to kill you._ '

Dean chuckles and scratches his nails against Sam's scalp and tries really hard not to think of exactly that.

"Boys, might have a fix here."

Sam doesn't look up, his breathing is slowly evening out and Dean can feel sleep pushing at the edges of his own mind so knows that Sammy is well on his way to snoring and drooling on his big brother's knee, "Which problem? The shared brain cell or the mind speak?"

Bobby watches Dean rub soothing circles on Sam's back and smiles, "The mind melding, there's a spell here. Yes, I know your history with spells is stella, but under the circumstances don't you think we should give it a try?"

Dean nods and runs the pad of his thumb between Sam's slumped shoulder blades, "Yeah, yeah, okay, what do we have to do?"

Bobby jots down a few notes and walks round the desk, knowing Dean isn't going to force Sam to move now he's fully asleep and not wanting to encroach on their private moment for too much longer. Handing the paper to Dean, Bobby nods at Sam's snuffling form and grins, "He always look like a twelve year old in candy land when he sleeps?"

Dean smirks as he sees faint images ghosting across his vision and realises that Sam is indeed dreaming about riding on one of the few merry-go-rounds they were allowed on as kids, "Pretty much. So, how does it work?"

"You both have to recite this once then whenever one of you wants into the double speak, you just recite it again. It locks it down unless you unlock it. I'm sorry lad, I can't find a way to reverse it. It's a solid side affect of the bonded souls."

Dean nods at Bobby and salutes the older man but doesn't reply.

Bobby offers up a wan smile and walks out of the room, sliding the doors closed behind him.

Dean could wake Sam, get him to recite the spell but he's kind of enjoying seeing inside Sam's dreams. How many times over the years has he wished he could be inside his little brother's head, thought that if he could just cut through the crap and see inside properly he might be able to fix whatever's been broken....

Leaning his head back against the couch, Dean closes his eyes and watches Sam ride the purple pony on the merry-go-round that John had said made Sam look like a girl but Dean had just leaned in over Sam's shoulder and told him to ignore their Dad, he wouldn't know cool if it jumped up and bit him in the paskweeter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The brothers are stood in their room upstairs at Bobby's, hands clasped, staring at each other over the incense smoke circling the room. Together they bow their head's and chant the spell to lock down their shared thoughts.

As they finish Dean feels a profound sense of loss at Sam's presence no longer being in the back of his head and has to squeeze Sam's hand.

Sam's obviously feeling the effects of single occupancy as well because he squeezes back just as hard and smiles sadly at his brother, "Least you can watch porn without me going insane in the corner."

Dean chuckles and lets his hands drop, "Uhuh, although....maybe shared thoughts whilst we're doing _that_ might not be a bad idea..."

Sam rolls his eyes and smirks at Dean before heading back downstairs to where Bobby's compiling lists of possible cases, "Come on Heff, we better show willing or Bobby'll start charging us rent."

Dean snorts and hooks two fingers in Sam's back pocket, "He wouldn't dare, we'd just give him a fake credit card anyway. Why can't we take a little time off anyway's. You just got vertical again. Not to mention I'd like to make sure that wall's sticking before we..."

As they turn into the kitchen Sam gives Dean a reprimanding look, "I'm upright and I'm mostly mobile, from what I could see of myself without the soul, I've got a lot of making up to do. I'd like to get started."

Dean flinches and kicks himself for not locking down his memories before Sam had managed to squirrel out exactly what he'd done over the past six months, "You weren't meant to see that. It wasn't you Sammy, it was.... _he_ wasn't you. Nothing to make up for."

Sam grabs three cold ones from the fridge, passes one over his shoulder to Dean and walks towards Bobby who's simultaneously stirring a pot full of something semi-edible and looking over police reports, "Look, you might not think I've got anything to make up for, but I do. Hell I almost killed Bobby..."

Dean sees Bobby wince and shakes his head, "That wasn't **you**."

Bobby thinks maybe he should keep his trap shut but he's never been above honesty with the boys and he's still smarting from nearly getting his insides spilled, "Look Dean maybe...Sam....I know it wasn't _you_ you, but I could do with a day or two to adjust to you being all soulful again," off Dean's angry glare Bobby rushes to clarify, "I ain't mad, I'm glad we got Sam back Dean but Sam's right, it wasn't a picnic and I could do with some head space of my own."

Dean nods but does nothing to disguise the hurt and anger in his eyes at Bobby trying to undo everything he's been saying to Sam about his soulless self, "Fine. What we got then?" 

Bobby flicks a manilla folder at Dean and goes back to stirring whatever the hell it is he thinks passes for dinner, "Couple of couples all ripped to pieces in some make-out spot. Wouldn't think much of it but they were drained of all blood. Cops got no leads and I figured it might be a good one to ease Sam back in on."

Sam shakes his ass, forcing Dean to remove the fingers still hooked in his brother's back pocket and leans against the sink, "Any ideas? Vamps maybe?"

Dean flicks through the pieces of paper and nods his head as Bobby puts the spoon to his lips and grimaces.

"That's what I figured. Seen as you two could gank a vamp in your sleep, thought you might wanna take this one."

Sam moves away from Bobby, not unaware that every time he leans in Bobby leans away, and taps Dean on the shoulder, "What you reckon, we gonna see if I'm still firing on all cylinders?"

Dean mumbles the 'unlock' spell, shoots a thought at Sam and locks down again.

Sam can't stop his heart rate ratcheting up or the loud bark of laughter as a faint impression of an image of Dean, braced behind him, nails etching grooves into his hips floats across his mind, ' _Can think of funner ways to check your running at full capacity._ '

Sam leans forward and thwacks Dean on the ass before grinning and shoving him towards the front door, "Later stud."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They've been in town for over a day and found zip. Nada. Zilch. Dean's about to call it when Sam comes barrelling in from the parking lot of their motel, "Dean, they've found another set of remains, closer to town this time. We get there quick we might be able to pick up a trail."

Dean unfolds himself from the bed and stretches his shoulders, enjoying the way they ripple and crack, "Okay, you head to the crime scene, I'll go to the precinct, see if I can't chase those useless forensics guys into a real answer."

Sam nods and throws on his suit jacket. 

Dean leans forward and straightens Sam's tie before dropping a kiss on the end of his nose, "Monkey suits always did fit you better."

Sam runs the pad of his thumb down Dean's cheek, grins and rolls his eyes before turning and walking out the door, calling back over his shoulder, "Hold that thought, let's figure out if we've got a case before I let you jump my bones."

Dean's starting to hate this 'case'. They've been here more than twenty four hours, haven't slept, barely eaten, have found nothing and he _still_ hasn't managed to see what it feels like fucking Sammy up against the Impala with two sets of emotions running through his mind, "Fine, but when I do you better hold onto your hat."

He hears Sam chuckle as he throws himself behind Baby's wheel and guns the engine. Dean watches Sam drive away and wills his libido back in line. Sam's right, they really should check this out properly first, doesn't mean he isn't itching to sink his teeth into Sam's bitable ass.

Gathering his ID's and badges, Dean locks up and heads in the direction of the police station, hoping they'll be able to shed some light on the bizarre killings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's been up on the hill overlooking the local school sports field for an hour and he's just about to kill one of the local PD, "Officer, please don't take this the wrong way but would you back off."

The older, rather portly looking man wearing a deputy's uniform is about to say something back when his radio crackles and he heads back to the car. Leaving Sam blessedly free to pick across the remains undisturbed.

There's a trail of blood leading off into the woods and both corpses are almost completely drained of their vital fluids. So much so that their body's have gone nearly black in colour. They must have been drained before they hit the dirt because there's no blood pooling to indicate how they landed and Sam thinks that the throats being ripped right out is possibly a way for the vamps responsible to cover up the twin puncture marks.

Maybe they've had trouble with hunters before and have switched up their M.O.

Either way, he's sure they're definitely dealing with at least one vampire, maybe two. There's barely any signs of a struggle and that means the likelihood of a double attack is higher otherwise at least one of the humans would have tried to run.

He picks his phone from his pocket and dials Dean's number. He idly wonders as the phone clicks and starts ringing whether the shared speech would work from this far away but thinks it's best to use the phone first, just in case Dean's in the middle of a conversation with someone and really shouldn't be jumping six foot in the air and talking to nobody.

Dean picks up after three rings, "'lo."

Sam switches ears and bends to retrieve a piece of fabric that's wedged beneath the dead guy's body, "Think we got vamps."

"Yeah that's what I was thinking too. Doctor slowpoke over hear managed to dig the tip of a fang from one of the gashes on the second male victim's throat."

Sam's about to say something else when he hears Dean swear and a woman's voice sounding very offended, "You making friends again?"

"As always Sammy. Right, I've got a couple more things to chase up here. You wanna wait and we'll go after dark when there's no chance of the sheriff shooting either of us?"

Sam chuckles down the line, "Nah, I've got a trail of blood. Wanted to see where it leads. Will call if I come up with anything beheadable."

"Okay, be careful."

"Always am...Don't snort at me!"

Sam disconnects and turns towards the deputy who's looking like he wants to be anywhere but here, "Officer, I'm going to take a quick look at this blood trail. Probably nothing but I should really check it out."

"Want I should come with you?"

Sam hides the eye roll and puffs out his chest, "No I'll be fine, you obviously have more pressing issues to attend to."

The deputy sighs in relief and practically throws himself behind the wheel of his cruiser, "Okay sir, FBI can take it from here."

Sam thinks the deputy's pressing business is probably with a pot roast and a jug of beer but thanks whoever's in charge for giving him an easy out with the police officer. Having real cops trail you when you're after a creature of some kind can raise awkward questions if they happen to get stuck in the line of fire.

Sam salutes the retreating car and waits for it to be completely out of sight before loosening his tie and rolling up his shirt and jacket sleeves, "Right. Where do you go..."

It's already dusk and Sam thinks he should really have brought a flashlight but the car's all the way at the bottom of the hill and he can't be bothered to trek back down to get one. He's got some razor wire curled up in his pocket and his glock nudging a hip. He'll be fine.

He slides just left of the bloody trail and follows it into the woods, making sure not to step in it, not wanting to have to scrub more blood off his dress shoes.

He's been walking for about twenty minutes when he comes upon a tumble down house. Hunter's instincts kicking up a notch, he gauntlets his glock in his left hand and edges closer to the back windows, careful to keep at a crouch just in case anything is looking out from behind the tatty curtains.

There's no light coming from inside but that doesn't mean anything, blood suckers can see in the dark and their sense of smell rivals that of a blood hound. Illumination isn't a necessary part of the proceedings. It also makes disorientating their victims a lot easier.

Back pressed to rotten beams, Sam sidles along the wall until he reaches just below one of the windows and listens, tries to make out any unnatural sounds in amongst the normal sounds of the woods at night.

He hears something go rattling across the floor of the shack and decides he'll just poke his head over the ledge of the window. It's probably a rat but you never know.

Peering inside, trying to make out any moving shapes in the darkness, Sam doesn't hear the branch snap behind him or the creeping footsteps closing in on him from either side.

He's about to holster his gun when he feels clawed hands clamp down on his shoulders, ripping straight through his jacket and shirt and leaving stinging gashes in his skin, "Wha...fuck!"

He attempts to spin on the spot but is forced face first up against the splintering wood. Something snarls from over his left shoulder and he feels saliva dripping down his cheek. Shuddering and wishing for a scrubbing brush, Sam gags at the fowl smelling breath wafting up his nostrils.

"Look what we got here boys. I think we just managed to bag ourselves a hunter."

The hands holding him roughly shove him round so he's facing not one or two, but five vampires, second sets of teeth all on show in their grinning snarling mouths, "Oh crap."

Sam desperately tries to remember the unlock charm for his and Dean's shared thoughts but is distracted by the vampire holding him's horrendous breath and jagged fangs gnashing far too close to his face.

"Hmmm, wonder what hunter stew tastes like. He's cute this one too. Maybe we should _play_ with our food for a change."

Sam's whole body shudders at the implied threat and he finds himself being pawed and clawed at as the vamps pull him forward and tie his wrists behind his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean's been back at the motel for an hour when his 'spidey senses' start tingling. Sammy should be back by now. He should've at least called.

Flicking through his call list, Dean hits Sam's number and waits to be connected. Instead of the ringing he expects he gets dead air and a 'user is unavailable' message before angrily disconnecting. 

Rummaging around in his duffel for the unlock spell, Dean finds it folded up right at the bottom of his bag and whispers the Latin that'll free up his and Sam's joined consciousness.

' _Fuck, Dean, please....can't remember....help. Please help..._ '

Dean's heart almost stops. The pain in Sam's voice is clear as a bell and ringing through Dean's mind. The images that come along with it have him gasping for breath and gripping the table to stop from throwing up, ' _I'm here baby boy. Where are you? Sammy, where are you!_ '

Sam seems incapable of coherent thought, just a constant stream of mental pleading and flashes of agony, ' _God, please....Dean where are you? Hurts, hurts so much._ '

Dean's knees buckle and he ends up nose to carpet, hands over his ears, eyes closed against the image of Sam, bare apart from his shorts, skin hanging off his chest in flayed layers.

Dean heaves, stomach forcing what little food he's managed to down in the last 48 hours back up and across the carpet, ' _Sammy...come on Sam, focus, where are you! I need to know...oh god...where you are._ '

Sam feels Dean in the back of his head and tries as hard as he can to shut out the waves of white hot pain convulsing through his body. Screwing his eyes shut, loath to let the vampire with the pincers out of his line of sight but knowing Dean can see everything he's seeing, Sam wills his mind to grab hold of Dean's presence, ' _There's a blood trail, from the top of the hill overlooking the local school. Follow it, about twenty minutes. Dean there are five of them, I couldn't...I couldn't..._ '

Dean's curled in a tight ball against the carpet, loose threads scratching at his cheek, eyes tearing from the undulating agony rolling from Sam's mind to his, ' _Okay, I'm coming, just hold on..._ '

The force of the scream Sam lets loose is enough to almost deafen Dean from the inside, ' _ **NO!** you can't, there's too many....you need, you need to get Bobby..._ '

Dean digs his nails into the floor and hauls himself back onto his knees, ' _There's no time Sam. Gotta get to you._ '

Sam feels Dean's desperation mingling with his own and forces his mind to send a clear image of all five vampires and their vast array of 'toys' even knowing it'll make Dean want to rip and slash his way in here on his own, ' _There are too many! I'm no good for fighting....Jesus, Dean I can try and distract them long enough for Bobby to get here, he's only an hour out, but you can't come in here alone. We'll both end up dead._ '

Dean fights off the waves of nausea threatening to floor him again and fills his mind full of soothing thoughts to try and counteract the tugging agony he can feel emanating from just below Sam's navel and tries not to focus on what that pain means, ' _Fine, okay, just hang in there little brother. I'm coming to get you._ '

Sam feels the sharp sting of cold metal against his skin and locks down the speech highway. Not wanting to be alone but knowing Dean will never manage to stay away long enough for Bobby to get their if he sees and feels what's about to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean's found Baby and has loaded up with as many vampire unfriendly weapons as possible and is waiting impatiently for Bobby to arrive. 

Every time he unlocks their shared thoughts Sam just locks them back down again.

Dean's still managed to glean small snippets of what Sam's feeling and seeing and is about ready to go in guns blazing whether Bobby get's his ass there or not.

Dean hears Bobby's old charger before he sees it and practically hauls the older man from behind the wheel, "About fucking time!"

Bobby's about to take Dean apart when he sees the red ringing his eyes and his split lips from gnawing on them whilst waiting for Bobby's arrival. Dean's holding his stomach and having trouble breathing and Bobby thinks that Death must have known this was a possibility when he offered the bonding as a solution.

That son of a bitch has a sick sense of humour.

"Calm down boy, where is he?"

Dean leans against the Impala and attempts to calm his heartbeat, "Top of the hill and twenty minutes along the closed trail. Bobby he's...he's...I've never felt anything like it. Every time I try and speak to him he shuts me back out. I think he's afraid I'll just walk in there and start trying to blow them away."

Bobby gives Dean a pitying look and starts loading up from his own arsenal, "Is he wrong?"

Dean doesn't have the energy to answer, is so drained from worry and shared pain that he thinks he may pass out.

They head off in the right direction, flashlight glow playing across the blood trail still clearly visible.

Dean tries one last time to unlock Sammy's thoughts and comes up against a wall of red hot searing pain. It topples him to his hands and knees, ' _Sammy! Don't you dare give up on me!_ '

Sam feels Dean's essence flash across his own and doesn't have the where with all to lock him back out. He's in too much pain and he needs to hear his brother's voice. Feel Dean's mind wrapping round his, ' _De...Dean...you gotta be....fucking hell...you gotta be careful. I'm not going to be able to....Don't look, please don't look._ '

Dean feels Bobby's hands hauling him upright, slotting a shoulder under an arm and dragging him along the trail as he's forced to look at Sammy, covered in blood, holes in places there shouldn't ever be holes, muscle and sinew clearly showing through layers of stripped skin on his little brother's chest, ' _We're coming Sammy, me and Bobby, we're almost there._ '

Sam can feel Bobby's hands as if they were circling his own ribs and it affords him a measure of comfort knowing that the older man is supporting Dean because Sam knows his brother and he knows that being able to feel Sam's pain will be crippling him, ' _Just hurry. I think they're done playing._ '

Dean grits his teeth and forces himself away from Bobby's guiding hands, "Come on, Sam thinks they're done with the entrees."

Bobby unsheathes his machete and lets it hang down by his side, steal glinting in the moonlight, "Right there with you Dean."

Dean and Bobby finally see the falling to pieces shack cresting the hill and split off to take it from both sides. Double entry; one through the front, one through the back. Neither of them has to say it to know it. They've been working together long enough to understand each other's moves.

Dean motions for Bobby to get ready and then turns his thoughts inwards, ' _I gotta turn this off Sam, I'll never be able to get passed them all if I've got you in my head. Wait ten seconds then start shouting and hollering loud as you can. 'Kay?_ '

Sam feels Dean's hatred of leaving him alone in his mind and mentally nods before the gaping emptiness consumes him.

Counting under his breath, Sam hits ten and starts banging his feet and hands on the floor, shouting and screaming as loud as his weakened state will allow, "Come on you blood sucking fuckers. Come and get me. Aren't you bored with this shit now!"

As Sam creates merry hell, he sees Dean and Bobby burst through opposite doors and start swinging. The vampires converging on him are too distracted by the scent of fresh agony and blood to do much when the metal of Dean's blade comes into contact with the first neck.

Dean's a machine, hacking and slashing until there's nothing left but lumps of meat.

Bobby crouches down next to Sam and hisses, "Jesus boy, what in the hell..."

Sam grits his teeth and starts trying to pull himself upright, "You don't wanna know, believe me."

Sam's got an arm round Bobby's shoulders, the other is holding his chest and stomach together. He looks up into Dean's wild eyes and realises how close to losing it his big brother is and grinds his teeth against the pain in order not to show the agony on his face and force Dean into complete meltdown, "Dean, you with...you with me?"

Bobby shoulders Sam's weight and drags him towards Dean, "Come on son, gotta get Sammy to a hospital. You good?"

Dean's panting for breath, forcing oxygen round his straining lungs and making his already swimming brain white out at the edges, "I'm...good. Bobby you got him? I'm gonna shag ass and grab the car," Dean desperately wants to wrap Sam in his arms but knows if he lets go of his hard held control he'll be a quaking puddle on the floor, "I'll be as quick as I can," he turns towards Sam and runs fingertips down his cheek, "Be back soon little brother."

Sam and Bobby watch Dean haul ass down the hill as they stumble outside. Bobby lowers Sam down on the front steps and tries not to jostle his raw ribs, "You okay Sam?"

Sam leans against Bobby's side and concentrates on the in and out of his breathing, "I've been better."

"No shit. How did you manage to get yourself jumped by a bunch of..."

Sam gives Bobby a withering look and tries to ignore the blood still leaking through his fingers, "I didn't realise they were there, was too busy worrying about this whole 'shared soul' thing."

Bobby sighs and pats Sam's knee, "You know Dean would've sold his soul _again_ to get yours back."

Sam shakes his head and tamps down on the anger threatening to spill over, "That's half the problem Bobby! He keeps forcing me to live with the fact that he's willing to die to save me. How could you let him..."

"You know Dean's never been 'allowed' to do anything in his very short stubborn life!"

Sam knows Bobby's right and he knows it isn't the older man's fault. Dean would've gone off and done it regardless of Bobby's say so, but Sam really has got to get it through Dean's thick skull that he is worth just as much to Sam as Sam means to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean hasn't left Sam's bedside in twelve hours. Hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't hit the head without checking Sammy's okay first.

Dean nearly lost him _again_.

The thought of what could've happened if they'd been ten minutes later, if he hadn't unlocked their shared thoughts, brings Dean out in a cold clammy sweat.

He hadn't managed to breath properly until Sam was out of surgery and even then it felt like he was sucking down lung fulls of rusty nails.

It'd taken Bobby threatening to tie him down and force feed him to make him actually sit in the waiting room whilst they checked Sam's vital's in recovery and Dean's not ashamed to admit, to himself at least, that the sight of Sam, top half completely bandaged with his precious blood still oozing through the gauze had made him dry heave into a waste basket.

The Doctor's have said Sam will take a while to come out of the anaesthetic but Dean's still refusing to move more than six inches from his bedside and Bobby's about ready to start throwing punches, "Dean, you'll be no good to the man if you end up in the bed next door due to exhaustion."

Dean looks up at Bobby, eyes barely focused, skin the colour of muddy snow, "I can't Bobby...I nearly, he nearly..."

Dean's eyes brim with unshed tears and Bobby has to clench his fist to stop himself reaching out, knowing it will only make the younger man even more embarrassed at the blatant and raw heartbreak written all over his face.

Dean hangs his head, clasps the bright white sheets between his aching fingers and speaks so quietly Bobby barely catches it, "I've only just got him back."

Not for the first time, Bobby sees a little of himself in Dean. 

Bobby can remember every single second of the loss of Karen. He also knows what it's like to be given a second chance only for it to be violently snatched right out from under him. He understands Dean more now than he ever has before.

Bobby decides another angle may just work and puts on his best disgruntled gnome face, "You have any idea how much grief he's gonna give me when he wakes up and finds you half dead and drooling on his sheets! Dean come on, You need sleep. I need sleep and he's not coming out of it for a while. You'll know when he does, right? Clingon Mind Meld will see to that."

Despite the bone deep tiredness and an ache in his heart he doesn't think will ever subside, Dean chuckles, "I see why you only watch Deep Space Nine...It's a Vulcan Mind Meld, idiot."

Bobby smiles when he senses the unspoken win and hauls Dean up out of the medieval torture device know as the hospital 'comfy' chair, "Come on jackass, let's get you cleaned up."

Dean allows Bobby to drag him from the room, but not before he's leant down and whispered into Sam's ear, "Don't run off, 'kay! Be back soon as the old man's stopped fussing," Dean drops a kiss on Sam's temple, voice cracking as he forces out words he barely ever says, "Love you."

Sam smiles in his drug induced sleep and shifts closer to Dean's lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean only manages three hours before he's bugging Bobby about going back to the hospital and the older hunter decides to pick his battles as he nods and waves Dean off, "Fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you when you end up looking like me overnight."

Dean grins and shags ass back to Sam's bedside, not willing to let him out of his sight until he's absolutely sure he's safe.

Dean settles himself down next to Sam's sleeping form, head cradled against his little brother's hip, fingers laced together.

Dean can't help his eyes drooping, his mind wandering until he's snoring softly and twitching in his sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's floating. He can see himself, laid out in crisp white hospital sheets, tubes and wires hanging from every available piece of flesh. He can see Dean, head resting against Sam's hip, one hand curled in front of his face, the other grasping Sam's fingers. Not willing to relinquish physical contact even in sleep.

Dean is twitching and muttering, fingers curling and uncurling, knuckles whiter than Sam's ever seen. His shoulders are hunched and his entire body is jerking violently. It takes Sam a moment but he suddenly realises Dean is having a nightmare and as soon as Sam acknowledges it, he can feel the fear in Dean's mind creeping in along the edges of his consciousness. 

Sam watches Dean carefully, pushing the abject terror his brother's feeling to the back of his own mind and tries to think of ways he can ease his pain, when he realises there's a negative of Dean super imposed upon the outlines of his solid curves. It's barely discernable with flickering edges and an opaqueness that reminds Sam of not quite cooked egg whites.

As sleeping Dean groans, the impression, the negative of Dean throws his head violently, mumbling and begging under his breath.

It causes floating Sam's vision to blur. Two Deans, one almost completely separate to the other, both recognisable as Sam's older brother.

Holding his hand in front of his face, Sam studies Dean through it and realises he looks like the impression of his brother; blurred edges and practically see through skin.

Understanding smacks Sam in the face like a baseball bat.

The impression, the second almost invisible Dean is sleeping Dean's mind. 

The Sam he can see in the bed is _really_ him, and the floating disembodied Sam staring down at his nightmare plagued brother is an impression of his own mind.

As that thought solidifies, Sam is surrounded by an achingly bright light. It envelopes him, curls round him and through him, then reaches out and tucks itself around Dean. Wrapping his brother, both his physical body and his consciousness in glowing warmth.

The Sam staring down at Dean thinks maybe he could go in and pull Dean out of his nightmare and is suddenly sucked into an inky blackness that fills his lungs and presses down on him so hard he thinks he may drown. There's an ear splitting wail coming from somewhere in the dark and Sam has to cover his ears to stop the sound from shattering his heart from the inside.

This is Dean's nightmare. 

It's not so much a picture show running on loop but a set of emotions that Dean would normally be able to wall up with a fifth of Jack and a well placed sarcastic comment.

The thoughts and fears of Dean's waking world all converge on him in his sleep and Sam doesn't understand how his brother hasn't gone insane with it.

Martial-ing his mind, Sam reaches out into the dark, lets his fingers ghost against unseen obstacles until he can feel the contours of Dean's face beneath his hands. With as much strength as he can muster, he calls out to Dean, willing him back into the light, ' _Dean, brother, I'm here._ '

Dean's answering cry is one of unadulterated terror.

Sam feels Dean's face twist against his skin, contort into a mask of horror, ' _Sammy, Sammy no, I couldn't, I almost...please don't leave me._ '

Instead of allowing the thoughts and feelings swirling around in Dean's nightmare to smother him, Sam lets his own calm and peace at having Dean so close seep across the space between them, forcing a line of light so bright out into the darkness it obliterates all the horrors he knows are hiding in the black, ' _Dean, Dean, I'm here, listen to my voice, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Come back to me._ '

Sam curls a hand behind Dean's head, leans in and kisses him, running the tip of his tongue along the curve of his bottom lip. 

He sees Dean's mind twitch once and calm, settling back over his physical body. The Dean of his brother's nightmare opens his eyes, parts his lips and sweeps his tongue inside Sam's mouth. As Sam responds to the need he can feel rolling off his brother, he drags him backwards, up and up until the black of his terrors recede and they are both surrounded by the light of their joined souls.

Dean's mind comes alive. A cascade of multi-coloured sparks so bright they threaten to blind Sam. Nightmare Dean fades and Sam finds himself face to face with a very confused, very tired looking impression of his brother. ' _Sammy? Are we....are we **floating**_?'

Sam chuckles, reaches out towards Dean and wraps him in his disembodied arms, ' _This is **our** mind._ '

Dean looks down over Sam's shoulder and nearly has heart failure, ' _Shit, Sam...you mean I'm not...not dreaming_?'

Sam grips the back of Dean's neck and leans far enough away that his brother can see his face, ' _You were. You know we're really going to have to talk about what goes on in your head one day._ '

Dean can feel himself laid against the sheets covering his sleeping brother's body, but he can also feel Sam's hands, the hands of his mind, wrapping his neck, the warmth of his skin spreading across his own flesh, ' _This is freaky. What's with the light?_ '

Sam watches tendrils of light loop the room around them, twisting into beautiful shapes, and smiles at Dean, ' _I think, I think this is what you gave me. When you tethered yourself to my soul. This is it. Our two souls. It's...._ '

Dean plays a hand through the air, runs fingers along one of the bursts of light, feels the heat of it against his palm, ' _....beautiful. Wow, I always thought my soul would be darker...black._ '

The sheer wonder at such an amazing thing being part of himself playing out over Dean's features makes Sam want to shake him hard enough to loosen the idiotic ideas his brother harbours about himself in the deepest recesses of his mind, ' _Why would your soul be black Dean? You give of yourself every single day. You save and you fix and you restore happiness to people who've lost all hope. Why would your soul be black!_ '

Dean lets Sam pull him into his body and rubs a cheek against his little brother's shoulder, ' _Because...look at everything I've done, to you, to...I was in Hell Sammy._ '

Sam grips Dean's shoulders and shoves him backwards, ' _Okay, enough! If you've been keeping score, what about all those things I've managed to royally fuck up over the years? Ruby, Lillith, Lucifer...I came back without a soul Dean. Sometimes you make me so mad I just wanna...._ '

Dean closes his eyes and tries not to picture the hurt and anger he felt when Sam abandoned him for a demon because he knows his little brother will be able to see it all, feel everything he felt, but that isn't what they are. Before he can stop the raging disappointment he felt whilst laying on that hotel room floor after Sam had practically beaten him to death all those years ago, Dean sees Sam wince and recoil. Clasping his stomach in his hands, tears cascade down Sam's cheeks, ' _No Sammy, we're not...we aren't the sum of our mistakes. We're the stitch marks. We're the things we've repaired, even when we couldn't see a way out of the hurt and hatred. We are our ability to forgive each other._ '

Sam steadies himself, scrabbles for a hold on the warmth and love that Dean is throwing at him in waves and squares his shoulders, ' _Listen, I need you to...I want to try something, okay? Don't talk, just, listen and **feel**._ '

Sam puts distance between himself and Dean, takes a look at the still forms laying on the bed below them and closes his eyes.

Dean watches Sam and is about to make some idiotic comment when he's hit in the gut with a solid blast of something so stunning it brings tears to his eyes.

Dean's seeing himself through Sam's eyes;

Dean and Sam as children, Dean holding Sam after a nightmare when their father was no where around.  
Sam as a fourteen year old nerd with no friends and a fear of yet another new school, noticing Dean watching him from behind the bleachers just to check Sam was okay.  
Dean steadying him, making sure he's safe, holding him up each and every time he was close to falling apart.  
Dean's soft caresses in the dead of night when Sam thought no one in the world would be able to love a freak like him.  
The pain at having to leave Dean behind in order to save his own sanity from their father's obsessions.  
The joy of having Dean back in his life after four years of sporadic contact and cold nights alone worrying whether Dean was dead or alive but being too proud to pick up a phone and check.  
The heat Dean creates in Sam, even when he isn't trying. The need to hold and possess and crawl inside his brother's skin.

Thoughts and emotions Dean didn't realise anyone was capable of, flowing between them, undulating waves of love and joy and fear at the thought of losing all those tiny little moments that make them brothers and lovers, friends and soul mates.

Dean suddenly understands why Death picked the spell he did, the wording and the intent behind it. Sam is Dean's soul mate. Dean is Sam's. And there's nothing Dean could ever do that would force Sam into **not** loving him. 

Dean stumbles back under the weight of all of Sam's precious memories and thoughts, all the images of Dean that wrap around his little brother's heart and help him heal on a daily basis, and he feels a projection of wetness on his cheeks. 

Dean's crying and for the first time in a long time, he isn't ashamed of it, ' _Sammy I..._ '

Dean lunges forward, wraps Sam's blurred lines in his own and allows years of hate and horror to be obliterated by the knowledge of how Sam _really_ feels about him.

They come together, lips and limbs all tangled in one big mess, melding to each other, the light of their souls whipping around them in the air. Dean sinks into Sam's embrace and feels a 'snap' as the tiny little threads tethering his soul to himself, preventing it from completely joining with Sam's just disappear.

Sam feels Dean's soul cleave to his own, properly and wholly and the all encompassing warmth of their joined essences fills him with awe and wonder. He will never be alone again. He will only have to reach out and Dean will be there, until they no longer walk the path they've chosen. And when that day comes, Sam's absolutely sure that they'll be travelling that road together as well.

As Sam and Dean's mixed consciousness sinks back into their body's the light dissipates, the glow subsides until they are fully awake in their own skins.

Sam feels Dean grip his fingers tight enough to make the bones crack and smiles at his brother, lets the knowledge of a shared life sweep along the mind highway between them.

Dean smirks and nods, "Didn't know you cared Sammy."

"Jerk."

"You love it."

Sam simply nods and allows the soft familiar warmth of Dean's mind to lull him back into a peaceful sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dean, it's been a week man. I'm healed, or as healed as I'm gonna get. Stop being an overprotective jerk!"

Dean listens to Sam whine and unlocks his head, allowing the image of Sam, chest ripped open, laying in a pool of his own blood, float from his mind to his little brother's.

Sam flinches and stumbles back against the bed, "Jesus."

Dean spins, pins his brother with a look and quirks an eyebrow, "Exactly! Stop your complaining and humour me."

Sam throws a barbed comment at Dean's mind but it's too late, Dean's already mumbling the spell to shut him out.

Dean locks it back down again and stands with his hands on his hips, staring at Sam, "Look, I get it, you wanna get out of here and go do your job, but for the love of...I never wanna see you like _that_ ever again. So I'm being a little overprotective. Which would you prefer, us holed up in here with shit cable and home cooked food for a couple more days or me hovering over your shoulder out there?"

Sam sighs and rolls his eyes, "Here, definitely here."

"Exactly, so stop acting like a little bitch and take your lumps. Hey, least I've been waiting on you hand and foot, how often does that happen!"

Sam smirks at the memory of Dean in a pink gingham apron with flour smudges on his cheeks and decides being under house arrest isn't _so_ bad, "Point taken. Where's Bobby anyway?"

Dean wanders from the room, knowing Sam will follow, and heads downstairs for a beer, "Still in Oregon. Says he'll be another few days yet. So we have the house to ourselves. No whiskey swilling grouch telling me to get out of his kitchen."

Sam chuckles at the image of Bobby, furious look on his face, surveying the fall out from Dean's first ever attempt at baking. 

Dean throws a beer at Sam and walks towards the yard. Just because he'd wanted to keep Sammy safe while he healed, doesn't mean he isn't missing his Baby. Running his fingers along her sleek lines, Dean inhales the scent of chrome and rubber in mid-day heat, "Hey Baby, not long."

Sam watches Dean stroke the Impala and smiles affectionately. He knows the only thing that could ever come between them is if he managed to trash Dean's pride and joy, and as Sam's not that stupid, he thinks he's pretty safe.

The look on Dean's face is a mixture of love and lust. He's never gotten over his obsession with the 67 Chevy and Sam doesn't think he ever will. Besides, the way Dean stares longingly at her is almost as hot as the look he gets on his face when he's about to wrap his tongue round his brother's cock and does interesting things to Sam's insides, "Dean..."

Dean's too busy re-aquatinting himself with Baby's curves to notice the hitch in Sam's voice, "Hmm?"

Sam sidles up to the car, hops up on her hood and tries again, " _Dean_..."

Dean turns to see Sam curled on the car's hood and tilts his head, "What?"

Sam sighs in exasperation and mumbles the unlock charm, letting his rising libido transmit heat and longing across their shared thought waves.

Dean's cock responds to the images he can see dancing across Sam's mind before he himself realises that his little brother is horny as hell and healed enough for Dean to be able to play with all his toys, "Sammy..."

Sam slides off the hood, pops the button on his jeans and slips them down his thighs, all the while keeping eye contact with Dean.

Dean's having trouble focusing. The image Sam's creating is hotter than hell but it's being pushed out of his mind by the wanton thoughts Sam isn't even trying to keep to himself. Dean can _see_ Sam bent over the back of the car, ass in the air, Dean's cock buried as deep as it'll go, "Damn Sam."

Dean walks up in front of Sam and hooks his fingers round the hem of his shirt.

Sam's hands stop him, ' _Don't._ '

_Why?_

Sam opts for out loud, knowing Dean's still not used to thinking in triplicate. Images and thoughts from the pair of them swirling round their minds. Sam finds it intoxicating but Dean's not quite gotten used to separating their different ideas and thoughts, "I want you horny, not upset. Leave the shirt on. Just 'til their all gone."

Sadness tinges Dean's thoughts for a moment until Sam's need to be touched cuts right across his mind and almost knocks the air from his lungs, "Okay. Just for now."

Sam smiles at Dean and finishes removing his jeans, giving his hips a little wiggle at the same time, ' _Strip._ '

Dean smirks and shakes his head but starts to shimmy out of his jeans anyway, "Bossy little thing aren't we?"

Sam leans back against the hot metal of Baby's hood, enjoying the slight burn, ' _You love it._ '

Dean drags his t-shirt over his head, exposing a vast expanse of tanned toned skin to Sam's hungry gaze and Dean has to steady himself between Sam's thighs as he sees himself through his brother's eyes.

Sam licks his lips and lets his eyes roam the muscles of Dean's taut stomach, the narrowing of his hips and the twitching sinew of his thighs, "Beautiful."

Dean nestles himself tighter between Sam's thighs and lets his tongue flatten against Sam's pulse point, ' _Not so bad yourself Sammy._ '

Sam's on fire. Inside and out. He can feel his own blood pressure rising as well as Dean's growing urgency at having him so close after so long not being able to touch or taste. Sam's hands clamp down on Dean's shoulders as his brother plays the tip of his tongue along his collar bone. Sam tilts his head, exposing more of his flesh to Dean's hungry mouth and is rewarded with an audible groan coupled with a mental projection of Dean's desires ghosting across his vision.

Dean's so engrossed in Sam's flavour on the tip of his tongue that the white hot jolt of electricity from Sam's mind almost takes him off his feet, 'Jesus Sammy,' his fingers tighten in Sam's hair, yanking hard, eliciting a double groan. One that slots itself into his mind and one that sounds in the air around them, "Dean!" ' _God Dean_ '

Letting his hands drop from Sam's hair, Dean spiders his fingers down his brother's body, enjoying the way the muscles tense and bunch beneath them. Careful not to put too much pressure on his still healing chest and stomach, Dean scrapes nails down Sam's thighs, allowing his hands to brush close enough to Sam's curls that he jerks and grinds into Dean's crotch, ' _Sammy, verbal or mental?_ '

Sam's head is spinning so much he doesn't understand the question at first, until he realises Dean can't handle replying out loud as well as in his mind, ' _In here._ '

Dean grins, nods and digs his nails into Sam's hips. Using Sam's weight against him, he yanks him away from the car and spins him until his hands are flat against hot metal. Trailing nails along the curve of Sam's ass Dean lets the feel of his own hands on Sam's skin swim across his consciousness, ' _If I watch myself fuck you, will you be able to..._ '

The shiver Sam feels snaking it's way down his spine has his toes curling and fingers flexing and he has to make a concerted effort not to scrape Baby's paint work, ' _Fuck Dean!_ '

' _Planning on it..._ ' Dean crouches down behind Sam, spreads his cheeks wide and runs his tongue round his brother's tight muscles, ' _Don't move._ ' 

Sam can feel Dean's tongue lapping at him as well as his brother's rock hard cock and the blood pulsing round his veins. He thinks the sensation of shared desire may just drop him if he doesn't figure out how to separate their thoughts and feelings when the tip of Dean's tongue breaches his muscles and his knees buckle, sending him sprawling across Baby's hood, ' _De..._ '

As Dean works Sam with his tongue his rhythm falters, the heat scratching across Sam's skin and between his thighs comes crashing down around Dean's mind and he has to use Sam's hips to steady himself. He closes his eyes and inhales Sam's unique scent, letting the flavour linger in his mind so Sam can see what it is Dean finds so addictive. Slotting his thumb in next to his tongue, Dean grinds the pad against Sam's hole, stretching and readying him.

Sam can taste himself on Dean's tongue in his head and it's maddening. His own heart is pumping so fast he thinks it might stutter and stop but the sense of 'home' Dean gets from having Sam quivering against his lips is making him pant and writhe. His cock keeps butting up against the edge of Baby's grill, causing delicious friction that makes him want to fuck Dean's mouth.

Sliding a finger in alongside his tongue and the thumb working the edge of Sam's muscles, Dean feels Sam's cock straining against warm metal and has to suck down a lung full of air to stop from crying out. Sam's flesh is twitching around Dean's face, forcing his tongue tighter inside. Pulling back, licking his lips, Dean crawls up Sam's body until his cock is nestled between Sam's cheeks, _Ready?_ '

Sam's passed responding normally. All he can manage is a sharp shove with his mind that he hopes conveys his need and want. Sam feels the tip of Dean's cock nudging passed his muscles as Dean's mind spills into his. Sensation of being snug and warm inside Sam forcing itself into the corners of Sam's mind.

Dean reaches out and grabs a handful of Sam's hair, yanking his head back. Grabbing Sam's shoulder in the other hand, Dean uses it as leverage to start up a punishing rhythm that has both their toes digging in the dirt, searching for anything they can use to stop themselves falling apart.

Sam's mind and body are invaded by Dean. He's surrounded by his brother's essence as his cock slides the full length until Sam can see his own ass being fucked by his brother. Sam pushes back against Dean's body, forcing himself to twist on his cock.

Dean knows he's probably hurting Sam, the grip he has in his hair is straining his arm muscles and he can feel skin giving against the nails digging into Sam's shoulder but he can't fight the urge to possess Sam, to pound into him like an animal, not when he can hear Sam's pleading gasps in his mind and feel his grasping heat searing their joined flesh.

' _Dean, please....Jesus please, need you to...fuck!_ ' Sam's cock is throbbing and raw, scraping against Baby's grill. The friction is both blissful and awful and he needs Dean's fingers, needs the rough rasp of calluses against his heated flesh.

Dean let's go of Sam's shoulder, snakes a hand between his brother's legs, grips his cock at the base and jerks his wrist in time with his hips. The shared sensation of Sam's aching cock finally sliding against his fingers almost crumbles Dean's knees and he has to use Sam's back to stop from collapsing.

Sam's so close, so very close. Their combined orgasms threatening at the base of Sam's skull, pulsing against his mind sends multi-coloured spots shooting across his vision and Dean only pumps his closed fist twice more before Sam is spilling himself against Baby's pristine bodywork, ' _ **Dean!**_ '

The explosion of heat behind Sam's eyelids forces itself into Dean's consciousness and as Sam's muscles tighten round his cock, Dean has to grab the edge of the car to stop from passing out. He thrusts his hips, pounding his orgasm into Sam's skin, fucking him until the last drops of come have been wrung from his over stimulated body, ' _Sammy, fuck!_ '

Panting, heaving for breath and feeling light headed enough to float, Sam let's Dean's weight drag them to the floor before hauling his big brother against his chest, "That was...We've been missing out!"

Dean stutters the lock down spell under his breath to give himself chance to separate his brain from Sam's and nods against his brother's chest. "Telling me."

Sam wills his heart rate back down passed boiling point and squeezes Dean's shoulder before reaching up and scraping his nails along his brother's hairline, "Next time you decide to go off half cocked and bond our souls..."

Dean cranes his neck to stare incredulously at Sam, "Wha..."

Sam grins and drops a gentle kiss against Dean's lips, "...please ignore everything Bobby and me say!"

Dean's answering laugh is loud and full of promise.


End file.
